The Light and The Dark
by 1chrisf1
Summary: Long after The Last Dragonborn disappeared, a great dark mage to ever rise is about to overtake the Septim Empire. A final Resistance of ancient forces rise to fight the growing shroud over Tamriel, but hope is fading away.
1. Prologue

_A/N: The original version of this prologue was published on 20 February 2017, and the current version was published 30 March 2017. The existence of changes to any parts of the story will be noted at the beginning of any revised chapter. Words spoken in Dovahzul will be italicized in the story._

 **16th of Last Seed, 4E 202:**  
 **The Day the Dragonborn Disappeared**

 **The Throat of the World**

" _Dii drog, Paarthurnax_ ," Odahviing began, bowing before The Old One. "I am sorry to disturb your meditation, but I bring an urgent _qolaas_ from our ears inside the Regency of Cyrodiil."

Paarthurnax lifted his head, as the Dragonborn continued his meditation. "What news do you bring, _Odahviing_?"

"The Moth Priests - they have deciphered a _Kel_ \- an Elder Scroll. They speak of a new _Qostiid_ ," Odahviing said.

The Dragonborn lifted his head at this news, interested in what Odahviing had brought to their attention.

"The Prophecy states that there will be an end to a great unifying Empire, after three threats of darkness pass in its third reigning era, a fourth will rise to end it."

The Dragonborn stood and turned to Odahviing, and asked, "They believe it to be a Prophecy stating the end of the Septim Empire? And what do they believe the cause will be?"

Odahviing stood still for a moment, apparently not wanting to bring the news. After taking a breath, he said, "The cause will be the rise to power of the most powerful being born on Nirn - more powerful than the one who brought unity to Tamriel. Many of the Council members believe it be you, _Dovahkiin_. They now seek to end your life, and will do anything to do what will keep them in _du'ul_."

The Dragonborn was in shock at the news. "But why would I be a threat to them? Have I not saved them with my own power those three times?"

Paarthurnax interrupted the Dragonborn, saying, "You remember what I once said to you, _Dovahkiin_? ' _Dov wahlaan fah rel. We were made to dominate. The will to power is in our blood. You feel it in yourself, do you not?_ ' You have the blood of domination, and it may be seen why these rulers would seek to rid themselves of the paranoia it causes."

Looking into Paarthurnax's eyes, the Dragonborn retorted, "Was it not also you that told me to be wary of following prophecy so closely?" The Dragonborn felt his anger rise, but Paarthurnax was still in absolute calm.

"I warned you, _Dovahkiin_ , about trying to fulfill _Qostiid_ for the simple reason of doing so. _Qostiid sahlo aak_. Do not become a tool of _dez._ " Despite Paarthurnax's words, he saw the Dragonborn was still inflamed by the news of the Imperial action against him. " _Krosis_. You can understand that _Qostiid_ is not an absolute guide better than these _joor_ \- for you have the _dovah sos_ in you, _Dovahkiin_. But, I cannot help _dreh do mey_ \- the actions of fools."

The Dragonborn turned from the dragons, and looked down upon Skyrim, illuminated by the night sky. "Then I must go. I will not let myself be hunted. If they seek to kill me, let them try to find me. But I will not be there to give them the satisfaction of finding me, and I will outlast them in exile - for I must be able to return for the day I am needed once more, to maintain balance in our world."

With those words, The Last Dragonborn left The Throat of the World, and no man, woman, or dragon caught glimpse of him as he slipped from the world.


	2. The Dark Lord's Statement

_A/N: The original version of this chapter was published on 20 February 2017, and the current version was published 31 March 2017._

 **8th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 965**  
 **The Dark Lord's Statement**

A shroud basked in the light of the morning sun. Overlooking the vast Whiterun Hold was the conqueror of Dragonsreach, basking in the glory of his victory. The now former Jarl's body lay torn apart on the courtyard, while his court bowed to their apparent new master.

"I guess I rule over this city now. Tell me, which one of you would be the Court Wizard?" The towering figure, cloaked in darkness asked. A short Dunmer male raised his head.

"That...that would be me, sir," he stuttered, pathetically, at the figure standing before him. The conqueror turned to the court, snarling, and sent a wave of lightning from his left hand at the woman kneeling next to the Dunmer. She was sent flying back, hitting the door to the courtyard, and screaming in agony on the ground.

"You do not address me as 'sir'," the dark figure growled. "'Sir' is a term for something like a mere pitiful Jarl. You address me as 'my Lord', or else you will learn what it is like to feel being electrocuted to double the extent your friend just was."

The figure walked past the court to the woman he sent flying backwards. "And who might you be, young one?" He said, grasping the Nord woman's face and pulling it up.

"I... I am the housecarl, Helga," she sputtered, coughing blood into the pool that was coming from her nose.

"A housecarl!" The figure exclaimed. "Why, you must be amazing at protecting yourself, would you not?" He asked, mocking his victim. "Stand up! Fight me, and protect your city!"

Helga tried to stand, but could not - falling as soon as she got to one knee.

"No matter, my lady, I'll help you up!" The figure said with a mocking glee, raising his hand - and with his hand - Helga's body rose off the ground, and he stood her up.

"Please, kill me." she whispered, pathetically. The figure's glare darkened, and he stopped using his mocking tone.

"As you wish," he growled. He pinned her to the door, holding her there, as he sent the Jarl's sword zooming towards her with his other hand. The groans from her pain suddenly went quiet, as her lifeless body was held on the door, pierced through the chest by the sword.

Satisfied with how he terrorized the old court of Whiterun, the new ruler of the hold simply stated, "I believe that will do for one morning," before retiring inside, his followers keeping behind him.

 **9th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 965  
** **Imperial City**

Emperor Viator Mede sat in the throne room, accompanied by the Elder Council. He was a weary old man, his beard reaching past his shoulders and his grey hair wild and untamed.

"The news from Whiterun is troubling, but I am not ready to give up yet. Talos will guide me, and I will not let the Empire preserved by my ancestors for so many generations fall to this one man," he said, his chin in his hand.

A Council member stood and shouted, "Your Majesty, I think you greatly underestimate the potential of the threat posed to us. Do you not remember what was said in the Prophecy of the 16th of Last Seed? Did you not hear about what this monster did to the Whiterun guard? It was slaughter! I'm afraid we are witnessing a harbinger of our end times."

While the Council was in chaos, Emperor Mede stayed calm. "The Prophecy of the end of Septim's Empire - foretold of an unstoppable threat after three come to pass. The last great threat to Nirn was the crisis of Miraak on Solstheim - over 700 years ago. Since then, the Thalmor have been beaten into remission, and the Empire's lost provinces have been reunited. The Last Dragonborn disappeared shortly after this Empire began a hunt for him. The Empire is strong, and I do not believe this to be what the Prophecy spoke of. With the blessings of Arkay, I have ruled over this Empire for nearly a century. I have seen worse than the fall of one administrative district to a power-hungry maniac. But, I understand the threat. I will be ready - and if I am wrong, and I am the last of Septim's Empire, I will not let it fall to this man. You are all dismissed."

With that, the Elder Council left Viator to himself, in his throne room.


	3. The Lords of Volkihar

**14th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 965**

 **The Lords of Volkihar**

Serana sat alone in the dark, sharpening a blade and thinking to herself on what was happening around Skyrim. She had heard of what happened in Whiterun, and had premonitions of an upcoming meeting with the supposed conqueror of Dragonsreach.

After she finished sharpening her blade, she made her way for the dining hall. She was alone, in an otherwise seemingly abandoned Castle Volkihar. There were no signs of life, and she sat down to wait. She had an eternity to give, after all.

A few hours past midnight, a cloaked figure entered her hall. He covered his face, and stopped at the stairs to address Serana.

"Hello there, Serana," he said. "Do you remember me?"

Serana stood from her throne, ready for combat at any moment. She responded, "You're a fool for coming here," staring with a dark intent at the man in front of her.

"You must misunderstand, dearest Serana. For I do not seek conflict with you - rather, I wanted to make a proposal to you," he said smoothly, walking slowly towards Serana. "I want you to join me in my quest for power. I plan on conquering this empire, and I think you would be a fine asset in my pursuits. I assure you, that you will be rewarded greatly."

Serana's glare intensified. "I know who you are, Maengvor. You killed my mother years ago. Why would I join you - what do I have to gain?"

Maengvor dropped his hood, revealing a youthful, pale-skinned face with flowing dark hair. "I sought out Valerica's help because of her affinity for necromancy. I seek immortality. I think you may very well be of help to me."

Serana scoffed. She wasn't scared of Maengvor, and she didn't see a reason to follow him, and only reasons to oppose him. "Your quest for power will be the end of all of us. You cannot throw the world into imbalance in such a way you would."

Maengvor scowled at Serana, and replied with a harsh tone, "What would a Daughter of Coldharbour have to gain by opposing a darker Nirn? Of course, I know of you and Valerica's opposition to your father Harkon in his pursuit of ending the Tyranny of the Sun, but I think you are passing over opportunities for power too often." He gestured to his surroundings, saying, "Just look at this castle! The sole Lord of Volkihar, and you don't even raise a court? You don't lure followers to command?"

Serana looked at her empty dining hall, and then back at Maengvor. "I dissolved the court when you killed my mother. There's nothing to care about in having people to command - I can handle myself. For that matter, I certainly don't need you. No matter your magical feats, you would be a damn fool to do anything but turn around and walk out the door when this conversation is over. You might think you know what the effects would be if we enshrouded the world in darkness, but you don't. We all rely on keeping a balance between light and dark."

"Your time with the Last Dragonborn must have had a considerable effect on your view of balance. From what I know, you two were particularly _close_ before his disappearance," he said, trying to antagonize Serana. "But where is he to keep balance these days? He's long gone."

Serana stepped towards Maengvor, and warned him, "Leave now, and never come back to this Castle, if you know what's best for you." Serana waved her hand, and from several stone statues awakened gargoyles, surrounding Maengvor and inching towards him. "Don't even think about it. Take the gift and leave."

Maengvor took a step backwards, trying to see just how many hostiles were in the room. Completely surrounded, he put his hood back on, and bowed. "Goodbye, Lady Serana," he said, before turning and leaving Serana alone in her castle.

Exhausted, Serana made way for her room, and went to sleep.

 _In the garden of Castle Volkihar, Serana stood with the Dragonborn in the moonlight. She rested her head on her companion's chest as they embraced in the night._

" _You know I have to leave," he said to her, quietly. But Serana didn't want him to let go._

" _Why do you have to leave me? Why can't you stay here?" She asked the Dragonborn, clinging to him._

" _Because if I stay here, they'll find you, too. I need to go somewhere they won't be able to find me." The Dragonborn held out Serana by her shoulders, and said, "I'll be back. I must make sure the world doesn't devolve into chaos, and going into hiding is the best way to assure that for now."_

 _The Dragonborn looked into Serana's eyes for a moment, taking a long look at her glowing red eyes. He put his hand on her cheek and caressed it gently. Serana broke the silence by reaching up to kiss him._

" _Goodbye, Serana," the Dragonborn said as he broke away, before pulling a hood over his head and leaving her in the garden._

" _Goodbye, Serana." Those were the last words Serana's mother Valerica spoke to her, before dying. The image of Maengvor impaling her with a dagger was playing over and over again in her mind._

 _Maengvor, seeking Valerica's knowledge on the Soul Cairn and ways to test his theories on the dark arts, was indeed turned away. But at what cost? Serana sat on the cold floor with her mother's lifeless body in her arms._

 _If only Harkon hadn't been an absolute maniac, she might be sitting with her mother and father right now. Better yet, if the Imperials hadn't been such fools, she might have been able to spend this time with the Dragonborn. Now she sit empty. Devoid of livelihood, she was damned once more to waiting as eternity passed by._

Serana woke and went to the garden. There, she sat once more, waiting.


	4. The Legend of the Dragonborn

**17th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 965**

 **The Legend of the Dragonborn**

Arch-Mage Lodiramor sat at the desk in his quarters, reading the journals of his ancestor, Tolfdir. He was looking for records of when the Dragonborn was at the College of Winterhold, and after reading through several of the journals.

 _The memory of the Dragonborn's arrival is still clear in my mind, yet as soon as he came into our lives here at the College, he has left us with just a note, stating his departure and naming me as his successor as Arch-Mage._

 _His heroism has been noted, and quite frankly I do not believe in whatever prophecy that states he will bring destruction to the Empire. Therefore it is with great regret that I write of his disappearance, for I believe that he could have been instrumental in bridging the gap between the College and the Nords. Hopefully, the College can be restored without him, but it will likely take more time._

 _Of all of the allies and friends I've made in my life, none have been more important than him. From his mere arrival, to his contact with the Psijic Order, to his actions regarding the Eye of Magnus, he has ensured that there is a College to teach anyone who is willing to open their minds._

Lodiramor was hungry for answers. Where did the Dragonborn go? Did the Empire succeed in capturing him? And now, after reading Tolfdir's journal, he pondered over the matter of his contact with the Psijic Order. As far as Lodiramor knew, the last noted appearance of the Order was over 700 years ago - potentially, he realized, while the Dragonborn was at the College.

Lodiramor, with the help of his staff, stood and made his way for the Arcanaeum, before it seemed like everything was still for a moment. Lodiramor froze for a moment, but nothing was in the room - so he proceeded on to the Arcanaeum. He made his way for the desk of the librarian, Gultha. She sat there, reading intently.

"Hello, dear Gultha. I require your assistance on a matter of, er...research," Lodiramor said.

Gultha put the book down, and looked up to Lodiramor. "Yes, Arch-Mage? What do you need information on?"

Lodiramor rested both hands on his staff in front of him, and said, "I was looking through the journals of one of my ancestors, a former Arch-Mage by the name of Tolfdir. While he was at the College, the lost Dragonborn came to the College and was involved in an incident regarding the Psijic Order and an artifact by the name of the Eye of Magnus. I was wondering if you knew of any records regarding the Dragonborn, whether it be of his actions here at the College or elsewhere."

Gultha looked at him, appearing slightly puzzled. "I'm not quite sure what records we have. We likely have something that might be of use, but I'll need some time to search the collection for it."

Lodiramor smiled at Gultha, and simply stated, "Good to have your help. If you find anything, feel free to come to my quarters at any time." With that, he left for the outdoors of Winterhold.

In the extreme blizzard of Winterhold, Lodiramor felt right. Despite his old age, he fared quite well in the cold bitterness of the hold. It made him feel young again. And as he walked down the main street, he was reminded of what he needed to protect. For one day, not too far into the future, Lodiramor understood that the one who would likely bring his end would walk through the gates. He reached for the two amulets hanging from his neck - amulets of Arkay, and Julianos - and felt at peace with the idea of death.

But first he needed to find out as much as he could about the Last Dragonborn, who seemingly vanished from time. Whatever he may learn could be of use in defending his people against the evil rising against not only Skyrim, but all of Tamriel. Fact, shrouded in mystery, must reveal itself in time.

After some time, Lodiramor returned to his quarters to rest, hoping that there would be progress made by Gultha by the time he returned.

 _An image of a man in dark robes flashed, and then was gone. It was then completely dark for several seconds, and then there was a bright light in the distance. Lodiramor stood up, and followed the light. He followed it for so long that he wondered if he would ever reach its source._

 _After some time, another image flashed before him, causing Lodiramor to stagger in pain. He saw a great castle on its own island, gray and unwelcoming. And again, just as quick as the image came, it was gone._

 _Lodiramor stood again, and continued following the light. He reached out with his hand to detect any life, but he seemed unable to use magic. Whatever realm he was on, it was most definitely not Nirn. Regardless, he pressed forward._

 _Then, he heard a great shout - the Thu'um, and he saw a dragon, perched upon the peak of a mountain. The dragon looked at him straight in the eye, but did not attack. Suddenly, it was as if he were flying, and he was blinded for a moment. When he regained his sight, he saw the Summerset Isles from the sky above. He looked for a moment, before he was flown backwards against his will, through utter darkness._

Lodiramor woke up, dazed and confused. He reached frantically for his staff, and pulled himself by it to his feet. He looked towards his desk and saw a pile of unknown books. He smiled to himself, and began sifting through the collection. Most of them were the records of the keeper of the Arcanaeum of the time, Urag Gro-Shub.

More importantly, however, the matter on Lodiramor's mind was not what information may lie in those books: it was on his...dream. He doubted it were any natural dream - he guessed it was the work of someone who wanted to plant images in his mind.

A castle on an island, a dragon on a mountain, and the Summerset Isles. What was the point of these images? Were they the keys to answering his questions? Lodiramor pondered, as he opened one of the books.

 **Falkreath**

The Imperial Legion marched into Falkreath, led by General Vitertius Mede on horseback. He was flanked by his second in command, Suvren Tedayn, of House Redoran, and Mavla the Bloody, the daughter of the dead Jarl of Whiterun.

They were led to the Jarl's court by two hold guards, and when they came to it, Vitertius, Suvren, and Mavla got off horseback to enter the small palace, led in front by the two hold guards and followed by two Legionnaires - a Nord and an Imperial.

The Jarl, Ilfid the Haggard, was standing upon their entrance. As they approached her, she began to kneel, but was stopped by Vitertius.

"No need to kneel Jarl Ilfid, this is a military matter," he said, gesturing for her to stand as he planted himself firmly in front of her.

"I think it would be disrespectful to not kneel for a Prince of the Imperial Royal Family," she said as she stood back up. "To what do I hold the honor of having you as my guest here?"

"It is a simple request, really. If everything goes to plan, we won't be staying very long," Vitertius said. "As I'm sure you know, Whiterun has been taken over by some dark wizard. The identity of whom, we do not know yet. I would like to set up a garrison here in the city - a fixture of 50 soldiers to guard Falkreath as we lay siege on Whiterun. If the siege takes enough time, more Legionnaires may pass through your hold."

"That won't be a problem, General. You're welcome here in Falkreath for as long as it takes to take control of Whiterun once more," Ilfid said, smiling nervously as she spoke.

Vitertius gave her a salute, and the three turned back to rejoin their forces. But Ilfid spoke once more.

"Wait," she pleaded suddenly. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for your loss, Mavla." Mavla turned fully to face her. "I was close with Logvir, you know. He was a true Nord, as I see you've grown up to be too. Blessings of Arkay upon you, and Talos guide you."

Mavla nodded, and then turned back so they could leave to be with the Legion again. As she breathed in the air, she began mentally preparing herself for battle with whoever killed her father.

That night, as Mavla sat with Vitertius and Suvren, that last piece of the meeting with Ilfid came up.

"You knew Ilfid growing up?" Vitertius asked.

"I saw her a lot when I was young. I guess, when she and my father started to grow old, they made less trips between Whiterun and here to meet each other. Then I joined the Legion when I was 16 - so it's been at least 10 years since I've seen her." Mavla looked pained as she spoke of her father. "I can't wait to put the head of whoever sits on that throne on a stick."

Vitertius was somewhat taken aback by her hatred, but understood her reasons. He nodded to her, and turned so he could see both her and Suvren.

"Suvren...if we don't succeed in stopping this threat here, what will you do if this...conqueror...goes to Morrowind?" He asked.

Suvren lifted his head so that he could look Vitertius in the eye, and said, "I will return to Mournhold, hopefully with the Legion, but I'll be prepared to go alone." After a long pause, he added, "But I don't really want to let it get to that point."

Vitertius nodded and yawned, and then replied, "Let's put an end to it, starting tomorrow. In the meantime, I'm going to get some rest, and I suggest you two do the same." With that, the three slept.


	5. Lodiramor's Journey

**19th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 965**

 **Lodiramor's Journey**

Lodiramor was walking down the bridge to the main road of Winterhold, the College's Master Wizard, Sonine, argued with him.

"But who will fulfill your role while you, what, trek the entire province over what you saw in a _dream_?" She was furious with Lodiramor, who seemed a little too confident in what he was doing.

"Does that question really need answering? If I were to die it would be you who would become Arch-Mage. Thus in my time looking for answers, you are the one who will guide and protect the College," Lodiramor said, not turning to face Sonine as he continued down the bridge. When he reached the main road, he mounted a white horse held in place by a College mage. "I'm afraid I must depart, as I have no time to waste. I must find what I need before he arrives here in Winterhold. This is not just a matter of my own curiosity - this is about saving lives. I bid you goodbye, and I hope to see you again."

Lodiramor turned from her and started off on his horse. He rode through the city and onto the road to Windhelm, which he guessed would take a couple days on horseback. From there, he would take a ship from the Windhelm port to Solitude.

As he rode through the blizzard, his thoughts dwelled upon his first stop - the castle off the coast of Haafingar. Lodiramor read of - so he believed - the castle in a journal of the Dragonborn, which was moved from the Arch-Mage's quarters to a restricted portion of the Arcanaeum after his disappearance. It had said:

 _Of all of my travels, another place I found absolutely stunning was the great castle in the Sea of Ghosts. It wasn't necessarily beautiful, but it is staggering in terms of size, and it could host a small city's population in its walls._

Lodiramor wanted to get there as quickly as he could, eager to learn the secrets of the Dragonborn. First, he would have to make it to Windhelm, and he had to remain focus in case the Skyrim roads turned dangerous - as they were known to do.

After riding for several hours, his horse was growing tired. The snow had slowed down as he progressed further south and to lower elevations, however, and Lodiramor thought it would be best if he quickly found shelter. He had passed the abandoned Whistling Mine a couple hours beforehand, and hoped he would find something sooner rather than later.

And, not too much time later, he approached a cave. Wanting to get rest, he dismounted and brought his horse through the small entrance. To his dismay, he was not alone. A chaurus and two falmer were present in the room. Lodiramor tried to detect if there were any more life, and there was none.

Lodiramor drew a dagger from his hip, and held it above his hand with the use of telekinesis. He pushed his arm forward, and so went the dagger - in a direct path towards the chaurus and sticking into its head. One falmer, seeking to respond, readied a bow to fire at Lodiramor, as the other charged. Lodiramor held out his staff in one hand and thrust the head at the falmer - who were sent flying back to the cave wall. He raised his left hand and sent two successive fireballs at the falmer, making sure they were dead.

Lodiramor tied his horse to one of the natural structures of the cave and took a roll off the horse to sleep on. His thoughts lingered on the Dragonborn as he drifted off to sleep, hoping to have just one more day of travel before he could travel to Haafingar by boat.

 **Whiterun**

Maengvor sat on the throne of the Jarl of Whiterun, waiting for the Empire's next move. He knew they had been in Falkreath, and wondered when exactly they would begin laying siege on Whiterun. Everything was going according to plan - almost everything, at least.

He received word that the daughter of the Jarl, Mavla, was a part of the leadership heading the Legionnaires to Whiterun. Maengvor viewed this as a problem. For, if she were able to meet him, she would almost assuredly challenge him to a duel in the old Nord way. In truth, Mavla was just a waste of time. His interest was mostly in Titertius Mede, son of the Emperor.

His waiting was interrupted by one of his servants, who requested his presence in the court wizard's office.

"Why is it that you have called for me to be here?" Maengvor asked the two servants in the room.

"We have word from Velmril, the one who you stationed at the College of Winterhold," one of them said. "He performed the ritual to give us this message."

"What did he say?" Maengvor asked, growing somewhat impatient.

"He said that the Arch-Mage of the College is looking for information of some sort regarding the Last Dragonborn. He's on his way to Windhelm as we speak," the servant said.

Maengvor was displeased, for he planned on growing influence in the College subvertly and then having the Arch-Mage killed. Without the Arch-Mage, taking Winterhold would be an easy task. But it seemed that was all by the wayside now.

"We must accelerate our plans," Maengvor said, seeming somewhat frantic. "I hadn't expected there to be movement against us from anyone but the Empire at this point." Maengvor motioned for them to follow as he left to meet with his inner circle. When they reached the room in which Maengvor's inner circle was stationed, he had them wait in the corner as he addressed his closest followers.

"My friends, I'm afraid there must be a change of plans in how we address the upcoming siege," Maengvor said. "The two in the corner have alerted me that the Arch-Mage of the College is moving against us sooner than I had expected." After the short acknowledgement, Maengvor gestured for them to leave the room.

"What is the new plan of action, my lord?" The one closest to Maengvor asked.

"We must leave for the Rift immediately, Sernira," Maengvor said, putting his hand on the Dunmer's shoulder. "We will leave some of our followers here to fight the Imperial Legion, but it will just be an exercise in futility for the Legionnaires. They will not find the leadership of this group, and even if they take back this city, they will have a very decent amount of loss in their invading forces. I will go with a small number of our followers first, and each of you will do the same after me. We must not make the appearance of an entire army leaving this city - our movement must be covert and hidden. Are there any questions?"

Maengvor looked around his circle, to see nobody raise their hands.

"Very good. I must depart, now," Maengvor said, before leaving his closest followers.

 **20th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 965**

 **Windhelm**

Lodiramor strolled along on his horse, finally getting to the Windhelm Stables. When he saw who he presumed to be the owner, he dismounted from the horse and approached the owner - an Altmer female.

"Is there anything I can assist you with today?" She asked.

Lodiramor pulled his horse towards the Altmer, saying, "I was wondering if I could leave my horse with you. I'm planning on taking a boat to Solitude from here, and I need a place to leave him."

The Altmer approached Lodiramor, and said, "I can keep him, but only if you have the gold to pay for it. 50 Septims now, and 30 for every week he stays. If you can't pay it when you come back, it's my horse."

Lodiramor reached into his bag and took out his gold, counting out 50 and giving it to her, and then handing her the lead and said, "Thanks for your time." He then walked further down the road, to the Windhelm docks.

The Windhelm docks were full of Argonians, and Imperials from the East Empire Company, as well as a few Nord deck hands. He approached one of the Nords, and asked, "Where can I find transportation to Haafingar?"

The Nord, sitting on the dock, replied, "Talk to Chaentus. The East Empire Company is shipping some goods to Solitude on the 22nd. I'm sure if you give him enough gold, he'll let you on his ship. He's over there, the bearded Imperial in green." He pointed to an middle-aged Imperial in noble clothing - definitely someone who might be in the East Empire Company.

Lodiramor walked over to Chaentus, who was observing some Nords unloading some goods from a ship.

"Hello, sir," Lodiramor opened, "I hear you're sending a ship off to Solitude in two days. I was wondering if I could come on board for transportation."

Chaentus looked at Lodiramor, and asked, "How much gold you got?"

Lodiramor reached in his bag, and replied, "Would 300 gold be a fair compensation?"

Chaentus raised an eyebrow at Lodiramor, unsure of what background Lodiramor came from that would allow him to have 300 gold to spare. "400," he said flatly.

Lodiramor frowned but reached into his bag, pulling out four smaller bags of 100 coins each. He gave Chaentus the bags, and asked, "When does the ship depart?"

Chaentus looked at the bags, and then at Lodiramor, and said, "Be here at dawn on the 22nd. If you miss the departure I'm not giving you your coin back. Good day."

Annoyed at the Imperial's greed, Lodiramor didn't bid goodbye and simply turned from Chaentus, walking away. Now, he would have to find an inn to stay in for two nights.

 **Whiterun**

Titertius faced his Legionnaires, and saw a sea of soldiers eager to face the threat that has taken Whiterun. Titertius stood upon a rock, and started speaking.

"It's time, soldiers. We've traveled all the way from the Imperial City to quell this threat, and I for one am ready to bring justice to this maniac. For some of you, this was an attack on your home. For the rest of you, this is an act of aggression against our united Empire. I don't know what's hiding behind those walls, but it's time to strike fear into the hearts of whoever would slaughter innocents. Fear of justice. Fear of you." Titertius drew his sword and raised it to the sky. "This is for the Empire! This is for Whiterun!"

Titertius, sword still drawn, mounted his horse again and started riding towards the city as his men prepared siege equipment. Even though he still saw no archers on the walls, and the drawbridge was still down, he was sure there was a hell of a battle waiting behind those walls.


	6. The Siege of Whiterun

**21st of Sun's Dusk, 4E 965**

 **The Siege of Whiterun**

"Push onward!" Mavla yelled, motioning with her sword hand. While she was rallying soldiers forward, a mage sent a fireball bursting towards her, which she stopped with her enchanted shield. As she blocked that spell, the soldier closest to her was struck in the chest by an ice spear.

Suvren charged the spellsword who had killed the soldier next to Mavla, dodging a lightning bolt and cutting with his sword, which was parried off. Suvren bashed the enemy with his shield, and then cut into his neck, and then falling back to rejoin the line of soldiers.

"Shields down - archers fire!" Titertius yelled. The line in front kneeled down with their shields forming a wall, and the archers behind them cast in unison at the enemy. A few of the arrows were stopped in mid air by some of the more skilled mages, while some of them successfully met their targets, and several missed their targets outright.

The Legionnaires pressed on, pushing the enemy back to the city gates. When the situation became dire, a few of the mages tried to get back into the city, but they were killed before they could open the gate again. When the Legion made its way within the walls of the city, Titertius turned his head to his soldiers.

"Don't let up!" He yelled. "I want every last one of these invaders killed. We're taking no prisoners here!"

He meant to send a message to anyone who dared to attack the Empire, but his message would inevitably not reach anyone of importance on this day.

 **Imperial City**

Viator sat upon his throne and was met by his courier, stating that the Legion was now likely laying siege upon Whiterun as they spoke.

"Very good," he said. "You are dismissed until further notice."

The only other person in the room was Viator's closest advisor, Avenick Cecusiso. He stood to the right of Viator, who was thinking deeply on matters regarding the Elder Scroll that supposedly prophesied the end of the Empire he ruled over.

"Avenick," he began, "do you know why the Elder Council of the year 202 in the Fourth Era hunted the Dragonborn after hearing this prophecy?"

Avenick, with his hands behind his back, angled his head to talk to Viator. "I mean, I wasn't there. I assume it was because they feared his power. With power comes a desire to rule, does it not?" He asked.

Viator kicked his right leg over his left knee, and replied, "The Septim bloodline - they were all Dragonborn. This Empire was created by a Dragonborn, and it was ruled by the descendents of Tiber Septim until the Oblivion Crisis."

Avenick, somewhat confused, asked Viator, "So they thought that because the Empire was created by the Dragonborn, it might be ended by one as well?"

Viator turned his head fully to Avenick, and said, "Precisely. My family was never meant to rule the Empire. This was originally the Empire of the Dragonborns. Especially after Titus Mede was assassinated - the Elder Council believed that the Dragonborn would reclaim the throne which is, from a certain point of view, his right."

Avenick was growing even more confused as Viator went on. He asked, "Why do you bring this up now?"

"You see, the Last Dragonborn saved the world - and, by effect, this Empire, three times. There was a mistake," Viator said. "The Dragonborn was the only thing that could save us. The Dragonborn's presence ensured that the Empire of the Dragonborn would survive, regardless of whether he actually ruled over it."

"What are you saying?" Avenick asked.

Viator, taking a glass of wine from the table beside him and sipping it, said, "I don't know what exactly lies waiting in Whiterun. But I can tell you this: "If this man is truly something beyond an ordinary man's power, and he reaches the Imperial City, there won't be a Dragonborn to save us this time."

The room, in a very dark mood, grew quiet as Viator sipped his wine, imagining what might be going on in Whiterun at that exact moment.

 **Whiterun**

The carnage was taking its toll on the city. Bodies lay motionless in the streets, which were pooling with blood. Yet the fighting continued. Some of the buildings were ablaze, and the priests and priestesses could not heal all of the wounded soldiers that were being brought to them.

"We need to end this," Titertius said to Mavla and Suvren, all of whom were using their shields to protect archers. "I need to get to Dragonsreach before anyone can plan an escape. Are you two coming with me?" He asked.

Suvren turned his head to Titertius, and replied, "You two go. I'll continue leading the soldiers through the roads." He turned to face Mavla. "The leader of this cult is your fight."

Titertius nodded and waved his archer back, and then motioned for Mavla to follow him onto the nearest side road. They were quickly attacked by a spellsword, who Titertius parried the attack of, which was followed by a stab to the heart from Mavla's blade.

They proceeded down the road, which featured more than a few terrified citizens peering windows. When they made it into the Wind District, they surprised to see nobody on the sideroads. They had figured alternate routes to Dragonsreach would be more closely guarded.

After dispatching a few more mages and spellswords when they came back to the main road, they proceeded up to the ascent to the Cloud District.

"We've gotten to the Cloud District - where are the people guarding it?" Mavla asked.

"They're either all fighting in the Plains District, in which case their forces are much less than I thought, or they're all in Dragonsreach itself," Titertius asked.

They went up the stairs, and still they were met with no opposition. Things were too quiet in their area for Mavla's liking. When they got to the bridge however, mages and spellswords were waiting for them. Titertius met one of them with his shield, bashing a spellsword that charged him and slashing his throat. As he killed the spellsword, however, he was hit in the leg with a firebolt, causing him to stagger in intense pain. Mavla rushed to his side, fending off attacks at both of them as Titertius reached deep inside of himself for the strength to carry on.

Titertius dropped his sword on the ground and fired a fireball at the mages, exploding in their faces and killing two. He grabbed his sword again and got to his feet, finding strength to push on at least temporarily.

Mavla and Titertius moved closer to the remaining adversaries, who now totalled just two spellswords. Titertius, leaning on his left leg, dodged an attack to that side and nearly fell, regaining his balance just in time to block a slash with his shield. His retaliation was blocked by a sword, but Titertius followed with another slash at the leg, which connected. As Mavla dispatched a spellsword herself, Titertius ruthlessly thrust the sword through the fallen enemy's chest.

"Are you ready?" He asked Mavla, pulling the sword out of the chest.

Mavla turned her head to the doors of Dragonsreach, and said, "I guess we're about to find out."

Mavla and Titertius pushed open the doors of Dragonsreach, and the hall was entirely empty - except for one person, who sat upon the throne. They approached the man, who was cloaked in black and had an air of mystery to him.

"Who are you?" Mavla asked him. "Are you prepared to surrender or die?"

The man upon the throne laughed. "You're too late," he said. "You cannot stop what is to come."

Mavla approached the man, who didn't react to her movements yet. She then raised her shield and started charging, and slashing down at the man, the sword simply hit the throne, and the man disappeared.

There was a burst of black smoke that threw Mavla on her back, and she heard the man laughing, and she couldn't tell if it was just her imagination.

"What is this magic?" She asked.

Titertius sighed, though he too was put off by what he just witnessed. He walked to Mavla and helped her up.

"I'm afraid we aren't dealing with any ordinary maniac here," he said. "I never even thought illusion magic could be used to that extent. We're going to need some powerful mages if this...thing...is going to be stopped."

Not knowing how to respond, left blank from what had just happened, Mavla simply sheathed her sword and turned around, saying, "Let's go rejoin the rest. They've probably killed most of the remaining invaders."

Titertius followed her out of Dragonsreach, unsettled by the results of the battle. Even without, apparently, the most powerful of whatever group took Whiterun present, his Legionnaires still suffered many casualties. What would happen in a battle with the mastermind behind everything? How many men would have to die if they were to hope to stop this man?

As for Mavla, disturbed would be a light way to describe her. After all of the pain this conqueror caused her, with the death of her father, he messed with her head with magic. She thought she was about to get the chance to avenge her father, only for it to all blow up in her face.

When they reached the men and women of the Legion that had survived the battle, they tried to not show their demoralized feeling. They feared that this would become a war - and they would need to show strength to survive it.


	7. Meeting the Unholy

**27th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 965**

 **Meeting the Unholy**

Lodiramor payed the carriage driver, who had given him a ride from Solitude to Fort Hraggstad. He had a dream that showed him where to go in Haafingar while on the East Empire Company's ship. There was light snow falling on that particular day, and he was nearing the destination.

As he neared the shore to the Sea of Ghosts, he wondered what he was going to finally learn about the Dragonborn. What could be here that would lead to him gaining any knowledge?

Walking down to the coast in the brisk air, Lodiramor prepared himself. He saw the sunken jetty and the small boat that he saw in his dream, and looked out to the sea. He could just barely make out, in the fog, the castle he was destined to go to.

Breathing in, Lodiramor got into a stance and cast a spell onto the water, freezing a path for himself into the sea. He walked out onto the ice, freezing more of the water as he walked further into the sea. The closer he got to the castle, the more he was in awe of how it towered over the sea. He asked himself - who had once had a need for such a great keep in this place?

When he finally reached the island the castle stood upon, he took in a deep breath at the bridge, viewing in awe his destination. His quest for knowledge on the Dragonborn, he considered, had led him to a wonder he never had seen before. At his age, he didn't think he would be stricken by such a sense of awe by much else.

Lodiramor crossed the bridge, and saw no signs of life yet. There was nobody at the entrance to the castle, as far as he could tell. When he reached the main doors of the castle, he felt for any life, but felt nothing.

 _Is there anybody in there?_

Lodiramor entered the castle and saw the empty dining hall. He went to the tables, and noticed that it appeared as if there were people here not too long ago. He picked up a goblet and noticed there was still some leftover wine in it. Lodiramor put the goblet down and turned away from the tables, seeking to explore the rest of the castle.

"Stop!" Lodiramor turned back around and saw a woman standing upon the balcony over the dining tables. "Who are you?" She asked.

"I come in peace," Lodiramor said. "My name is Lodiramor, and I am the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold."

The woman glared at him intensely. "Why have you come here?" She asked.

Lodiramor took a step towards her, and put both hands on the top of his staff. "I seek knowledge," he said.

She looked slightly confused at what he meant. "What knowledge do you think you'll find _here_?" She asked Lodiramor.

"Knowledge on the lost Dragonborn," Lodiramor replied.

She looked taken aback. "Dragonborn, you said?" She asked. "How did you find this place? Do you have any idea where you are?"

Lodiramor took another step towards her with his staff, and replied, "I was trying to find information on the Last Dragonborn. So I sought out information on him in the Arcanaeum at the College. But when I went to sleep the first night I had looked for records of him, I had a dream. In the dream, I had visions of three places - this was the first."

She took a step towards the edge of the balcony. "The other two places - what were they?"

Lodiramor breathed, and said, "The second was the peak of a mountain - with a dragon looking at me. The third was as if I were flying so high I could see the Summerset Isles."

"The Throat of the World," she said. "The highest peak of Tamriel - that was your second vision."

"How do you know?" Lodiramor asked. "Have you been there?"

"Yes," she replied. "Yes, I have been there. The Last Dragonborn's greatest mentor - the dragon you saw - lives there, above where the Greybeards reside in High Hrothgar."

"Why do you know these things? Who taught you about the Dragonborn's life?" Lodiramor asked. The woman looked away from him, seeming somewhat uncomfortable. Then, Lodiramor realized something. "Your eyes," he said, causing the woman to look at him again. "You're a vampire. That's why I couldn't feel your presence here," he said. She looked down again, not replying. "Did you know him?" Lodiramor asked.

"Yes," she said tersely, biting her lip. "I knew him."

"So you know where he went?" Lodiramor asked.

She shook her head. "No," she said flatly. "He didn't tell me where he was going to go."

"Were you close?" He asked.

"You could say that," she replied. "You can call me Serana, by the way. The place you are in at this moment is Castle Volkihar. This has been my family's home for thousands of years. We were the most powerful vampire clan in Skyrim."

Serana walked away from the balcony and walked down the staircase to the dining hall. Coming face to face with Lodiramor, it seemed as if she was staring into his soul.

"Can you help me?" Lodiramor asked Serana. "I don't think I can travel to High Hrothgar alone."

Serana's eyes narrowed. "Why would you trust me?" She asked.

"If you were truly evil," Lodiramor began, "you would have killed me already."

Serana eased her glare and took a step back from Lodiramor. "What do I have to gain from coming with you?" She asked.

"You miss him don't you?" Lodiramor asked.

Serana felt her anger rise. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You've stayed here all this time," Lodiramor said. "What do you gain by waiting? At this point, it only puts you in danger." Serana looked at him, visibly growing tired of her emotions. "You know what is out there - there's no way you don't. If he were here, you would be working to put an end to all of it."

Serana turned from him and walked away, and Lodiramor was unsure if she would return. He passed the time by examining things in the hall, waiting to see if she would come back.

After about 15 minutes, Serana returned, wearing a bag, and with a sword on her back.

"Let's go," she said flatly. "We don't have much time."

With that, Serana and Lodiramor left Castle Volkihar together. Making way across the Sea of Ghosts in silence, as Serana had grown accustomed to, Lodiramor wondered about the extent of her history with the Dragonborn.

And in the light snow on the road to Solitude, Serana wondered about how Lodiramor found her. The dreams he described could not possibly be natural. That begged the question: who sent Lodiramor to her?

 **Malacath's Shrine, The Rift**

At the Shrine of Malacath, many men and women of various races were bowing, honoring the Daedra. Standing next to the Shrine itself, leading the people in prayer, was the leader of the cult, an aged nord, with a great beard and long gray hair.

"And true to your will, we accept men and women of all backgrounds," the leader said.

"For the forgotten tribe will come for it's due," the cultists aid in unison.

"And throughout our lives, we devote ourselves to you," the leader said.

"For Malacath's power has given us strength," the cultists responded.

Interrupting their meeting, a cloaked figure approached the cultists. Maengvor, alone, approached them. None of his followers were in sight - and the leader noticed his entrance.

"Who comes here, to the Shrine of Malacath?" The nord asked. "Have you come to join the tribe of the forgotten?"

Maengvor revealed his face by lowering his hood to the cult. "No. I come for all of you to join my cause," he said.

The cult leader was displeased by his disrespect towards Malacath in his place of worship. "What cause? We devote ourselves to Malacath, not some mortal whose purpose is finite. You are not welcome here - leave immediately, or die." The cult members rose in unison, turning to face Maengvor.

"So be it." With those words, Maengvor lifted his hand, flinging back the cult leader at the shrine. When the cultists moved to respond, he cast a wall of fire in front of him, blocking the path to him. His face glowing from the flames, he picked up the cult leader's body and pulled it towards him. Instead of killing the leader through normal means, Maengvor threw the body on the ground right where the wall of flames were. The cult leader screamed in agony as his flesh was consumed by flame, his entire body ablaze in front of his own cult.

When the screaming stopped, Maengvor lowered the flames.

"Are you still willing to fight me?" He asked the cult. Nobody moved - all still in shock from watching someone burn to death. "You are the cult of Malacath. You are the forgotten," Maengvor said, as he walked through the aisle to the raised altar. Stepping onto the higher ground, he continued, "And if you continue to worship these Daedra, you will continue to be forgotten." The cult stared at him, in fear and awe, still not daring to move as Maengvor looked at them from above. "You all want to be a part of _something_ , yes? You are disappointments. You have been cast out. Banished. With me, you can be a part of _something_ \- a movement that will give you much more power than any Daedra would give to a mortal. You can rise above the weak establishment of our world, and help establish a new order. An order where the right to rule is for those with the will and strength to take it. With me, nobody will ever forget you. With me, you will have control - for the first time in many of your lives."

Maengvor looked out upon the cult standing before him, which was still unwilling to make a single move. He scowled and grew impatient at their indecision.

"I'll make your decision easy," he said. "If you're with me, kneel now." Maengvor rotated his head to look at everyone, before looking straight forward again. "And if you aren't with me, you die here."

All but three knelt before Maengvor, at the shrine of the Lord they had devoted their lives to. The three bowed their heads, but did not kneel after a pause. They knew they could not fight whoever stood before them, and Maengvor rewarded their surrender by taking out a dagger, and using telekinesis to cut each of their throats in quick succession. Looking at his new band of followers, Maengvor smiled darkly. They were his now.

 **Solitude**

Serana and Lodiramor arrived at Solitude late in the night. Having made the entire journey silent, Lodiramor was growing even more curious as to what Serana was hiding during their journey. That, of course, would all have to wait. Lodiramor was sure that he would get answers eventually - else, why would he have been directed to her?

Serana approached the first carriage driver she saw with a covered carriage, who was near the Solitude stables. "I need transport to Ivarstead," she said to the driver.

The driver looked at her like she was crazy. "Ivarstead?" He asked, tone mocking. "I'm not sure you have the gold to get me to travel that far, lady."

Serana reached in her bag and pulled out several bags, and continually put them on the carriage wood. When she had placed thirty on it, she turned back to the driver.

"That's 3000. Is that enough for you?" She asked, with a harsh sarcastic tone. The driver looked in one of the bags, and with a surprised look on his face, turned to Serana as he started putting her coin bags in a backpack.

"Climb on back," he said. "We'll be off when you're ready."

Serana nodded to him, and helped Lodiramor into the carriage, before getting on herself. Indeed, when she got settled in the carriage, the driver started off.

As Lodiramor drifted off to sleep, Serana kept staring at the moon. She was worried about what may lie on the road, for it was a long journey from Solitude to Ivarstead by carriage. Knowing Maengvor found her before, who was to say he wouldn't keep tabs on people's movements throughout Skyrim? All of her worries though, were dominated by another thought. What Serana was most bothered by was not danger, but the past. She looked at the world she was leaving behind, asking herself, where did he go? What happened to him?

With a solemn look again at the sky, she whispered, "This is for you."


	8. The Way of the Voice

**1st of Frostfall, 4E 965**

 **The Way of the Voice**

Standing at the bottom of the Seven Thousand Steps, by Ivarstead, were Serana and Lodiramor. It was a dark, snowy day, and they were ready to get the journey over with.

"Are you ready, old man?" Serana asked. "It's a long way to the top."

Lodiramor stabbed his staff into the snow, looking at her. "Who are you calling old?" He replied, smiling slightly. "I'm always ready."

With a nod from Serana, the two took their first step up the mountain, knowing their destination was near. The journey from Solitude had been quiet - and long - thus they were eager to find what they wanted. Walking up the first few steps, Lodiramor noticed a tablet on his right. Intrigued, he went up to it, and began reading it.

"What does it say?" Serana asked.

Lodiramor turned his head to her, and then back to the tablet, saying, " _Before the birth of Men, the Dragons ruled all Mundus; Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Needs; For the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land._ "

Having read the tablet, Lodiramor and Serana continued up the path, gaining more of a view over the land the more they went on.

"You ever meet the Greybeards?" Lodiramor asked Serana, as they laboured on the steps up the mountainside.

"Me? No. I never met the Greybeards themselves. I have been to the Throat of the World, though. I went there with the Dragonborn all that time ago," Serana said. "He told me only one of them could speak anyway, because all of the others could only speak in the Thu'um."

Lodiramor nodded, and the two proceeded onward. The snow falling was getting heavier, and Serana wondered how well Lodiramor would fare the longer they climbed the mountain. After some time, they came to a second tablet, and Lodiramor approached it to read.

" _Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus; The Dragons presided over the crawling masses; Men were weak then, and had no Voice_."

After reading it aloud, they continued up the mountain. Serana remembered the first time she walked up these steps, not very long after Harkon was defeated. The Dragonborn, she remembered, often made trips to visit Paarthurnax, and they meditated and philosophized on the world.

" _I want you to meet my closest mentor,"_ Serana remembered him saying, before they made the journey. It was quite a surprise for her when they actually got to the Throat of the World, because he didn't specify they would be meeting a _dragon._

Coming to a flat stretch, Lodiramor saw another tablet and went up to it as Serana thought about the Dragonborn. He read, " _The fledgling spirits of Men were strong in Old Times; Unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices; But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts_."

As they went on, Serana thought more and more about him, and the adventures they had together. From the time they met to their quest to defeat her father, to whatever adventuring he brought her along for afterwards, to now...now she was alone. There was a time they did everything together, but that time had passed by.

A fourth tablet neared Serana and Lodiramor on the path to High Hrothgar, and Lodiramor went up to it again, and read, " _Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man; Together they taught Men to use the Voice; Then Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue_."

This time, as they walked along, Lodiramor gave into his curiosity for Serana's past, and asked her, "How did you and the Dragonborn meet?"

Serana had a look of discomfort on her face, as she still wasn't accustomed to telling Lodiramor about her life. "It's a long story," she said. "In short, family issues."

"We have a long way to the top," Lodiramor responded. "Plenty of time to tell a story."

Serana, not really wanting to tell him about it, said, "I don't really want to go into detail about it right now." After a pause, she added, "My family had a falling out, and my father tried to fulfill a prophecy that would have resulted in trying to end the Sun. So I was hidden away for millennia, until the Dragonborn found me."

Satisfied for now, Lodiramor didn't press for any of the deeper details, but was still interested in the matter. Such would be a topic for later discussion. Also, they were again nearing a tablet, and Lodiramor went up to it to read.

" _Man prevailed, shouting Alduin out of the world; Proving for all that their Voice too was strong; Although their sacrifices were many-fold_." Lodiramor returned to Serana and they continued on the steps.

Lodiramor had read some vague stories of the Dragon War, but wondered what it was truly like to fight a dragon. The Voice, as far as he knew, really only lived on through these Greybeards. Taking that into consideration, he didn't know what was stopping the dragons from organizing a new war with man and mer. For the only thing that stopped the Dragon Crisis was the Dragonborn - and where was he?

Coming to a sixth tablet, Lodiramor approached it and read, " _With roaring Tongues, the Sky-Children conquer; Founding the First Empire with Sword and Voice; Whilst the Dragons withdrew from this World_."

The further they made it up the mountain, the heavier the snow got. Now, it was growing hard to see the land below. At this point, the only feasible thing to do would be to double their efforts to reach High Hrothgar. The cold wind was bitter, and the snow and ice pricked their skin. Of course, the two Nords were accustomed to it - but that didn't make it pleasurable.

Serana thought back to Paarthurnax, and their first conversation. It was interesting to meet something that dated back further than her, but she wondered whether she was important enough for him to remember. And if Paarthurnax did remember her, what would he say in their reunion? This was, of course, assuming he was still perched upon the Throat of the World.

The closer they got to High Hrothgar, the closer together the tablets seemed to be. Coming to the seventh, Lodiramor read, " _The Tongues at Red Mountain went away humbled; Jurgen Windcaller began His Seven Year Meditation; To understand how Strong Voices could fail_."

With the snow growing more intense, Lodiramor felt like he needed to rest soon, but knew he was close to an important point in reaching his goal. He looked ahead, and saw the eight tablet. Coming up to it, he read aloud, speaking louder over the howling wind, " _Jurgen Windcaller chose silence and returned; The 17 disputants could not shout Him down; Jurgen the Calm built His home on the Throat of the World_."

Lodiramor looked at Serana, and thought about the way he felt. Looking, then, back into the snow dominated landscape before him, he thought to himself, _stay calm._ Walking through the blizzard with that thought, he started to see High Hrothgar through the raging snow.

Soon, they reached the ninth tablet, and Lodiramor approached it to read again. " _For years all silent, the Greybeards spoke one name; Tiber Septim, stripling then, was summoned to Hrothgar; They blessed and named him Dovahkiin_."

With High Hrothgar now in full view, and its staircase to the monastery the tenth tablet of the Seven Thousand Steps, Lodiramor and Serana expressed satisfaction that their work had yielded its first result. Calmly approaching the final tablet, Lodiramor read, " _The Voice is worship; Follow the Inner path; Speak only in True Need_."

Turning to face Serana, leaning on his staff, Lodiramor asked, "Are you ready?"

Serana walked up to Lodiramor, and replied, "I'm always ready," with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. With that, they walked the staircase to the monastery, not knowing exactly what would happen inside. When Serana came to the doors, she took a breath and pushed them open, with Lodiramor walking with the aid of his staff behind her.

Upon entrance, a Greybeard was standing in the middle of a square, flanked by six others in apparent meditation - 3 on each side. Stepping forward to Serana and Lodiramor as the doors closed behind them, he asked, "Who comes to our monastery? Do you seek the guidance of the Way of Jurgen Windcaller?"

Serana stepped forward to the Greybeard, and replied, "I am Serana, and this is Lodiramor, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. I seek an audience with your leader," she said.

The Greybeard looked to his brothers and then back at Serana. "Well, you are looking at him. I am Tolfrul, Grand Master of the Greybeards," he said, keeping a calm and collected appearance.

Serana looked at Tolfrul with a questioned look. Taking a step towards him, she said, "You are not the leader I am looking for." Tolfrul was not pleased at that, but she continued. "I have been here before. I have met him before," she said, not playing any games with the monk.

The other Greybeards rose to face Serana and Lodiramor, and Tolfrul said, "I am afraid I cannot say anything further to you about our organization. If you do not leave in peace, you will not enjoy your fate." The threat did not sit well with Serana, who felt her anger rise. But Lodiramor cut in before she could speak.

"If I may interject," Lodiramor opened, "there is a reason we are here." The Greybeards stood and listened with an air of interest in what Lodiramor had to say to them. "You men are removed from the happenings of the world, but I am not. Following the takeover of Whiterun by...a certain dark mage...I was researching the prophecy that supposedly spoke of the fall of the Septim Empire. And the information on the Last Dragonborn, I must say, was somewhat limited. But in the night, I had a dream. And in the dream, I saw three places - the first was a castle, in which I found this woman here. The second was of the peak of a mountaintop, with a dragon perched upon it. When I met Serana, and told her about it, she told me it was the Throat of the World, above the very monastery you live in." Lodiramor looked at the Greybeards, hoping for a change of heart from Tolfrul.

Tolfrul looked at Lodiramor, and then at Serana, and replied, "The last outsider to be allowed to go to the Throat of the World was the Dovahkiin, and once he took along-"

"A certain vampire, perhaps?" Serana interjected, with a harsh stare in her now glowing red eyes. "I was not lying when I said I have met him before." Tolfrul looked somewhat displeased once more by Serana, but didn't seem to be ready to throw her off the mountainside as he may have previously been.

"Why should we trust you?" Tolfrul asked her.

Serana, in a bold move, walked right up to Tolfrul to the point their faces were less than a foot apart. "The Dovahkiin trusted me. And The Old One may be of great help in finding out what happened to him. Are you not interested in solving such mysteries? Things that could help us quell destructive forces in our land?"

"We are above the pettiness of Tamriel's wars and politics," Tolfrul said. But, as he said this, the mountain rumbled, causing everyone in the temple to lose their balance. Then, looking unsure, Tolfrul turned back to Serana and Lodiramor. "I am afraid," he began, "that I have no choice. I will take you to him. I cannot defy his will. Please follow me."

Following Tolfrul, who had a defeated look on his face, Serana and Lodiramor were eager to get to the next point of their journey. For Serana, the reunion with Paarthurnax was especially on her mind. They walked back out into the blizzard, in the courtyard of High Hrothgar. Tolfrul led them to a staircase that led to a path up more mountainside.

Turning to Serana and Lodiramor, Tolfrul said, "The path to the Old One is dangerous. I can clear it for you, but you must make it to the Throat of the World before the power of my Voice fades, or else you are left to your magics and hope. Now, prepare yourselves and stand clear." Tolfrul planted himself in the ground, took a breath in, and then…

" _LOK - VAH - KOOR_ "

Tolfrul's shout cleared the blizzard from the path, and Serana and Lodiramor quickly began making their way to the Throat of the World. Not speaking a word, they did not want to know what would happen if they did not make it to the top in haste.

After a few minutes of walking, however, the blizzard began to return, and with it a strong wind that made them begin to lose their balance. As they began to frantically try to protect themselves from the elements, the wind and blizzard faded again.

" _Thank you,_ " Serana whispered under her breath.

As they were making their way to the Throat of the World again, Serana noticed they neared their destination. For, not even a minute later they made it onto the clearing, and rising onto a wall was the dragon that Lodiramor saw in his dream - who Serana had met hundreds of years ago.

Lodiramor was in awe, and Serana in deep thought as they approached the dragon. Perched upon his wall, he lowered his head to speak.

" _Drem Yol Lok._ Greetings - once again, _fahdon._ And greetings to you, _wunduniik._ What brings you to the Throat of the World?"

"It has been a long time, Paarthurnax," Serana began. "I was wondering if you could help us."

Paarthurnax looked at her in the eye, and said, "It has been long since I have been asked for help. _Balaan_. A friend of the _Dovahkiin_ is worthy in my eyes. What is it you seek?"

Serana approached Paarthurnax, and said, "We need to find out what happened to him. Lodiramor, here, had a dream that directed him to me, and in it he also saw you, and also the Summerset Isles. I was wondering if you might know if that is where he went?" Serana wanted answers, perhaps more than Lodiramor - this was personal to her.

" _Krosis_. The _Dovahkiin_ was driven from here by frenzy from a prophecy of destruction. _Qostiid sahlo aak_. I know not where he fled to," Paarthurnax replied heavily.

"Can you still help us?" Serana asked. "What if unraveling these mysteries can help us fight the growing destructive darkness over Tamriel? You must feel it, Paarthurnax."

Paarthurnax looked to the sky, and then back at Serana. "I have led the Dragons in _Revak Thu'um_ for hundreds of years. My guidance keeps them meditative. But, I know who you seek in the Summerset Isles."

Serana was very intrigued. "Who?" She asked.

"On the Isle of Artaeum. _Kruziik_. The Psijic live there. They may know where the _Dovahkiin_ went to."

Lodiramor remembered at that moment that his ancestor, Tolfdir, had written of the Psijic Order's interaction with the Dragonborn at the College hundreds of years ago.

"Even if they're still alive," Serana began, "how are we supposed to find out? We're not exactly close to Artaeum. And if we can't be sure we will find our answers there, how can we leave Skyrim now? By the time we return, the entire province will have fallen, and Morrowind, High Rock, or Cyrodiil will be invaded. Or all three! We have no time, Paarthurnax."

" _Tiid motmahus._ I cannot be certain what will happen while you are gone." Paarthurnax, in all of his wisdom, seemed unsure on this matter. After a pause, he stepped down from his wall and walked from it. Illuminated by the brightening aurora, he turned his head to Serana and Lodiramor. "I offer you something very few _joor_ can understand - to fly the skies from the perspective of a _Dovah_. _Tiid_ cannot be wasted."

Serana turned her head to Lodiramor, unsure about what had just happened. For Paarthurnax to offer to fly them from Skyrim to Artaeum would be of immeasurable aid to their quest. And with no other options, what choice did they have?

"I want to find him as much as you. _Zeymah_. I value _Dovahkiin_ highly," Paarthurnax said.

Lodiramor sought knowledge. Serana sought her long lost companion. Paarthurnax sought his forgotten student of the Voice. Whatever the reason, they were now drawn to the same ultimate goal - and soon they would make a leap of faith in their journey.


	9. Skyrim's Bane

**5th of Frostfall, 4E 965**

 **Skyrim's Bane**

Maengvor entered the city of Windhelm and looked out upon his followers slaughtering the city guard. An arrow was shot at him by an archer, and he stuck out his hand to stop it mid-flight, turned it around, and shot it back at the archer. Walking with an air of arrogance through the battle, he looked around at civilians fleeing and locking themselves in any shelter free from the destruction brought by Maengvor's forces.

"Do not kill the civilians!" He shouted. "I want the Arch-Mage found!"

Fireballs rained upon the city's protectors, and Maengvor calmly walked past the battle, with his sights set upon one particular place - Candlehearth Hall. He wanted to know where the Arch-Mage was.

Stepping into the inn, Maengvor was met by fearful drunks, raising their swords to him in half-hearted defense. Maengvor rose his hand and threw the drunks at the wall with a wave. The innkeeper stood behind the bar, looking into the eyes of Maengvor with a mix of fear and anger.

"First you come into this city, and start slaughtering people. Second you come into my inn, and disrespect my patrons with your magic. What do you want from me?" The innkeeper, who spoke with a heavy Nord accent, asked.

Maengvor stepped up to the bar and looked the Nord in the eye, and said, "Thonalf is the name, right?" The barkeeper looked surprised that Maengvor knew his name. "Tell me about who has been coming through here recently. Have you seen an old Nord - elderly - who walked around in a mage's garb and walked with the aid of a staff?"

Thonalf scowled. "I won't sell out anyone," he said, spitting in Maengvor's face as he did so.

Maengvor rose his hand and Thonalf was thrown against the wall behind him. As Maengvor closed his hand more, Thonalf felt a crushing force around his chest, and it began to be harder to breathe.

"Speak, or die," Maengvor said, his face darkening with every passing second. Thonalf seemed unwilling at first, but as the pain grew, so too did his willingness to speak.

"He came in almost two weeks ago. He was only here for two nights - didn't speak much. You're too late anyway - he's long gone." With that, Maengvor released his grip on Thonalf, and left Candlehearth Hall without a word.

 **Riften**

The last of the Riften guard had surrendered, and were being taken to the barracks to be imprisoned indefinitely. The followers of Maengvor had successfully taken the Rift's capital, and were now in the process of taking political control over the city.

A young Nord with long, blonde hair, and a beard with a long scar running through the left cheek rose up the stairs to Mistveil Keep. The citizens were being gathered outside the Keep, and the Nord stood upon the stone to address them.

"Good people of Riften," he began, "on this day, your city's government has fallen. We have shown mercy to those who came quietly, and from this point onward we will be running this hold. I am your new Jarl, Irrondir."

The citizens of Riften looked at Irrondir, who wore a simple tunic with a sword on his hip, with some confusion. The man who stood before them was of the peasant class, and many wondered why he was being installed as Jarl.

"On this day, there is no royal bloodline that rules over you. Whether that be of the Empire, or of the now former Jarl's family - the tyranny of the elite is no more in The Rift. From now on, all citizens are given the same opportunity. If you have the power, or wit, or talent, to succeed, you will find yourself with what you deserve. No longer will there be a forgotten man, as long as one is willing to work for things. Good day, citizens - you may return to your lives." With that, Irrondir turned and entered Mistveil Keep. One of Maengvor's inner circle, Sernira, was inside waiting for him.

"Good work, Irrondir," she said with a tone of slight congratulation. "Lord Maengvor will be quite pleased with your leadership over The Rift, I believe, if you continue to listen to my advice. You do feel pleased with what has come of joining us, do you not?"

Irrondir sat in his new throne, seeming uncomfortable in its elegance. He looked to Sernira, and replied, "He did promise us that we would have a place under his leadership. Jarl of Riften is a considerable step up from what I'm used to, considering I was driven from this place when I was fourteen."

Sernira, not completely sure what he was referring to, was intrigued by Irrondir's statement that he was driven from Riften years ago. She assumed that he had found the Shrine of Malacath not long after, and wanted to find out what happened to cause that. Such would be, she decided, a venture for her to pursue privately.

As the new government got settled in Riften, panicked Imperial couriers were covertly moving throughout the city - trying to leave so they could bring news of the city's fall to the Empire. A few retired Legionnaires stared out their windows, wondering if it were possible to take back the city from the invaders.

Most people were simply afraid. They were afraid of what was to come after this day, and they were afraid of what else was going on in Skyrim.

 **Winterhold**

Maengvor's followers were just inside the city gates when the guard started raining arrows upon them. College mages fought off some of the attackers, but the horde was much too large for them to contain.

People were starting to grow hopeless, in the intense blizzard of that day, of defending themselves from the vicious attack. The city guard, undermanned and with poor equipment, were falling left and right as Maengvor's followers stormed the city.

The College's mages, outnumbered two-to-one by the horde of darkness swarming the city, fell heavily on the defensive. Falling further back the main road, they were just holding off death when the invasion was interrupted by a deafening roar.

Everyone in the street held still for a moment. Suddenly, a red and blue scaled dragon swooped out of the sky and unleashed a torrent of ice upon Maengvor's horde, killing several. As everyone began the panic at the dragon's arrival, he stopped in the air to speak to the people.

"People of Winterhold," the dragon boomed, "My name is _Odahviing_. I have been called upon by _Paarthurnax_ to prevent the fall of this city in the absence of the protector Lodiramor. Do not fear, unless you are _volaan_ \- invader - I am _gro naal zin_ \- bound by honor."

The College mages looked at Odahviing and, wary of fighting a dragon, retreated towards the college. The last few living of the city's guard too retreated, into their barracks. Odahviing was then left in the street with Maengvor's followers. Looking upon them with condescension, he growled.

" _Los hi wah dir?"_ Odahviing asked in Dovahzul. "Or, in your tongue - are you ready to die?" Maengvor's followers, who were used to feeling invigorated as they were striking fear in others, were now starting to break as a collective. "Do you mortals even understand _oblaan_ \- to be destroyed? And yet you still face me?"

At that moment, about two-thirds of Maengvor's followers broke and fled Odahviing's wrath, as the rest stood in defiance of the storied dragon who stood before them. One of them sparked the battle by casting a fire spell at Odahviing, which he avoided with ease and flew with a ferocious intensity at the first attacker, taking him in his jaws and ripping the body apart. Maengvor's mages were strong, but they were not prepared for Odahviing, who shouted death upon them.

The College mages watched in awe as Odahviing tore apart the remaining forces of Maengvor. The ancient dragon danced around the air, dodging attacks and countering with intense frost and ice attacks - and occasionally swooped down to annihilate the mortals with his jaws.

As quickly as the battle began, it was over, and Odahviing landed on the ground, and out from the shadows crept some of the city guard, and the College mages returned to Odahviing, who stood calmly in the main road.

A nobleman appeared in the road, approaching the College mages and the city guard as they converged near Odahviing.

"The Jarl is dead," the nobleman said, solemnly. "And any of his potential successors were killed with him in the attack," he added. "There are no more invaders in the Jarl's longhouse, but there is not much left to govern Winterhold."

Odahviing turned his neck to look at the nobleman. "I will rule the City," he growled. As some of the people near him looked at him in fear, he added, "I do not plan on getting involved in much petty politicking, as is your kind's nature. I am here to fulfill what was asked of me by _Paarthurnax_ \- to protect this city until your Arch-Mage returns.

Odahviing did not stay long enough to hear objection - and the people were too fearful of the dragon anyway. Odahviing flew towards the College, and perched himself high upon the castle, looking down upon Winterhold. For the first time since the Merethic Era, a part of Skyrim was now - if only temporarily - ruled by a dragon.

 **Windhelm**

Maengvor sat upon his new throne, in the Palace of Kings, as the Jarl lay in front of him, just barely alive. He was having fun torturing the aged Nord, as the city had already fallen to Maengvor and his followers.

"Did the Arch-Mage ever come to your court? In the past two weeks perhaps? Any meetings with your court wizard?" Maengvor asked the Jarl, who was writhing in pain on the ground after being tortured with lightning and fire magic. Burn marks now covered his left leg as he dealt with the aftereffects of being shocked repeatedly.

"No," the Jarl said, spitting out blood as he did so. "Just kill me, please." The Nord begged for death, and Maengvor stood up to walk towards the weak man.

"You want mercy?" Maengvor asked mockingly, pulling out a dagger to show to the Jarl. "In my world, there is no such thing." He kneeled down next to the Jarl, and pulled his head back by the hair. "Welcome to my world."

With that, Maengvor thrust the dagger into the Jarl's right eye, and a piercing scream erupted in the Palace. Maengvor dropped the Jarl's head, which fell to the ground and pushed the dagger further into the eye. Blood poured out onto the floor rapidly, and after minutes of writhing, the Jarl died on the floor at Maengvor's feet.

"One day," Maengvor said to the members of his inner circle who he had brought with him to Windhelm, "I'll make sure that Viator Mede will die more painfully than that. The weak have no place in my world. Someone clean up this mess - I must get back to my planning."

Maengvor stepped over the dead Jarl's bloodied corpse and exited towards one of the side rooms. In it, a map of eastern Skyrim with markings of potential entry points to Cyrodiil and Morrowind was laid on the table. Maengvor looked at it, pondering his next move. Whatever it was, he was sure the Imperial Legion would be ready to meet him at his next stop.


	10. On the Isle of Artaeum

**6th of Frostfall, 4E 965  
** **On the Isle of Artaeum**

Paarthurnax landed in an orchard of Artaeum, after 5 nights of travel. It was a rainy night - much warmer than the weather of Skyrim that they were used to.

While they had accomplished part of their goal - reaching the Isle of Artaeum, they still had no knowledge of where the monastery of the Psijic was. They walked through the orchards aimlessly for about an hour when Serana grew to be impatient.

"What exactly are we doing?" She asked. "Do we really plan on finding these people by just walking around an entire island until we happen to walk into their monastery?"

Lodiramor looked out into the distance, and on the edge of some forest, he saw a small, but bright, light. Stepping ahead of Serana and Paarthurnax, he focused his sight on the entrance to the forest.

"There," Lodiramor said, pointing with the head of his staff. "We should follow that light. At the entrance to the forest, do you see it?"

Serana looked at Lodiramor, and asked him, "How will Paarthurnax get through there? There are too many trees for him to walk through."

Paarthurnax craned his long scaled neck to reply to Serana, saying, "I will do my best to get through the woods. For I did not see anything from the skies, I must continue in the search on the ground."

With Paarthurnax dismissing the issue, the trio went on. As they approached the forest, the rain intensified and the skies darkened. When the wind picked up into a strong gust, one bolt of lightning struck in the forest, just as they made it to the entrance.

With a nod between Serana and Lodiramor, and a heavy breath from Paarthurnax, the three entered the forest. They noticed that it had a mystical aura of sorts - which seemed within their grasp but outside of their explanation.

"How much do you know of the magics of the Psijic, Paarthurnax?" Lodiramor asked the dragon, whose life in Tamriel stretches even before the famed Psijic's foundation.

Paarthurnax snorted, thinking far back to his past. "Most of my life has been centered around Skyrim," the great dragon said. "I knew of their existence, but I have never met a Psijic monk - so I cannot say much on their advances in magic, for my study is focused on the _Thu'um._ "

Wise as he was, even Paarthurnax did not have much to say on the matter of the Psijic Order. He hoped to find answers himself sooner, rather than later.

The three made their way slowly through the forest, as Paarthurnax had some trouble maneuvering through the undergrowth. About an hour into their venture through the forest, they came to a clearing that featured a pond surrounded by a dense aura of magic.

"The _lah_ \- its essence is strong. Do you feel it in you?" Paarthurnax asked Serana and Lodiramor, as they approached the water.

Lodiramor touched the water with his staff, and the whole pond lit up so that it was almost white for a moment, before returning to its normal appearance. The whole surrounding area grew stranger by each passing second, and it felt as if the world was changing around them.

The rain in the clearing stopped completely, as it grew to a downpour in the forest surrounding it. The ground began to shake slightly, and the trees swayed in the strong winds. With a blinding flash, a bolt of lightning struck the middle of the pond. After the three regained their sight, they saw the pond glowing a deep shade of red.

" _We welcome you to Artaeum_." They all heard the voice of a man they could not see, but after he spoke, the storm in the surrounding forest abruptly stopped. " _Please, step forward into the water._ "

Lodiramor and Serana looked at each other, and then to Paarthurnax, who made the first move forward. They were taking a leap of faith in this moment, not really knowing what would happen to them once they were standing in the water.

When all three of them were standing in the pond, the water began to change color again - this time to a purple color. There was another flash of light, and they felt as if the ground was ripped from under them, and then as if they were falling through the earth. Suddenly, they were standing in a totally different place. Before them, a temple towered, with trees hiding it from the sky. In front of them, a robed Altmer stood.

"Welcome to our monastery," he began. "My name is Quaranir. 764 years ago, I met the Dragonborn regarding a matter at the College of Winterhold. Since all of you hold some sort of significance to the Dragonborn, the world's current conflict, or the matter at the College so long ago, the Psijic Order deems you worthy of our direct communication."

Serana stepped forward to look into his eyes, asking, "Now that we're here, what now?" She seemed a little impatient, but Quaranir did not seem to be bothered by her bluntness.

"You must meet our Rite Master, Iachesis," Quaranir replied. "He stands at the top of the tallest tower in preparation for meeting each of you." He turned to face Paarthurnax directly. "Paarthurnax. You can fly directly to Iachesis. I will take Lodiramor and Serana through the temple."

Paarthurnax bowed his head and flew off to meet the Rite Master, Iachesis. Flying to the top of the temple, Paarthurnax saw a man standing where Quaranir told him to fly. Landing on the tower, he faced Iachesis.

"Welcome, Paarthurnax," Iachesis said. "We've been most interested in the prospect of meeting you for many years. There are not many beings on Nirn whose lives date before mine."

Paarthurnax inched closer to him, so he could look into the Altmer's eyes, staring into his soul. "Yet there are two here today."

Iachesis leaned his head forward a bit, and then removed his hood, revealing what appeared to be a rather old Altmer. "Of course, there is also Lady Serana. On that matter, what do you think of her? Her morals? Her background?"

Paarthurnax tilted his head at Iachesis, wondering why the monk was so interested on his opinion. "I know of her life through the _Dovahkiin_. He told me about her family and what she has done. She has great darkness in her, but I would not call her _vokul_ \- evil - for she has already saved this world from unimaginable decay."

Iachesis nodded his head, and then said, "Serana, like you, has overcome evil - would you agree?" Paarthurnax bowed his head as if to agree, and Iachesis continued. "The three of you represent a certain delicate balance in this world. You are the one who defied the great ambitions of dragons for the purpose of devoting yourself to a more holy purpose. Lady Serana was brought into darkness, but ultimately she fought against the machinations of her undoubtedly evil father. Her morality is ambiguous - grey."

Paarthurnax leaned his head towards Iachesis. "And what of the College Arch-Mage?" He asked the monk.

"Lodiramor was born into a lighter world," Iachesis said. After a pause, he added, "But like you and Serana, his life holds complications."

"What sort of complications do you speak of?" Paarthurnax asked Iachesis.

Iachesis turned from Paarthurnax to look over the temple, feeling the edge of the tower's rail with his hand. "All will be revealed with time," he said. Turning back to face Paarthurnax, he added, "You certainly have much time to spare. I cannot see the end of your influence over this world." They stood there in silence for a moment, before he added again, "Your companions are arriving soon. Is there anything you would like to ask of me before they come to us?" He asked Paarthurnax.

"The _Dovahkiin_ \- I was his _kinbok._ Do you know where he has gone?" Paarthurnax asked him.

"The magic of the Psijics - what most call 'mysticism' - can tell us where beings are, and it can even help us communicate with them or go directly to them. We once used the power of mysticism regarding the Dragonborn at the College of Winterhold," Iachesis began, looking tired. "But over time, after he fled the Empire, he became harder and harder to find. Today, I feel something much different."

"What do you feel?" Paarthurnax asked him.

"It is a great convergence of power beyond us. When I feel for the essence of the Dragonborn, I can feel the existence of great light and great darkness - the Aedra and Daedra themselves. Glowing brightest amongst them is the one you call 'Akatosh'." Iachesis took a few steps towards Paarthurnax, and continued. "Do you know why I brought you three here? You have the balance the Dragonborn was destined to try to keep. He was able to reach into the light and the dark in order to ensure the world's well-being. But now that he's gone, the one they call Maengvor will dominate the world, ushering a destructive darkness. As we told the Dragonborn long ago, 'change is inevitable. Indeed, it is sacred.' Maengvor will change this world, but he must not be allowed to grow his influence too greatly, or else there won't be a world left to change. I believe you three are the key to finding what happened to the Dragonborn - if he has died, where he went, or even if he has become something else entirely. His fate is shrouded in mystery."

Shortly after Iachesis said that, Serana and Lodiramor joined them on the tower. Paarthurnax moved to the side so they could speak to Iachesis, and they came face to face.

"Welcome, Lady Serana and Arch-Mage Lodiramor," Iachesis began. "By now, I'm sure my brothers and sisters have filled you in on the nature of our magics, correct?" They nodded, and Iachesis added. "Serana - I'll begin with you."

"What do you want from me?" She asked, bluntly.

Iachesis stepped towards her and looked directly into her red eyes. "You are a Daughter of Coldharbour. Most would expect you to bring evil into this world. Also, as a fan of conjuration, you would not even be allowed into our Order, but we have made an exception for you. As a significant person to the Dragonborn and the most powerful vampire alive - the last of your clan at that - we believe you are a key to defeating the growing evil in Tamriel, as well as unraveling the mystery of the Dragonborn."

Serana looked a little put off at what Iachesis said to her. "Most powerful vampire? He might be dead, but Harkon was much more powerful than I. Surely, there is a vampire out there greater than me."

"You sell yourself short, Lady Serana," Iachesis replied. "Your magics have grown to levels that even rival Harkon's. Your connection to the Dragonborn invigorates you - even now - he gives you strength that gives you potential even other pure-blooded vampires can never even dream of."

Serana seemed a little confused at Iachesis, and the monk turned to Lodiramor to speak to the Arch-Mage.

"Lodiramor," he began. "Your family has a history of contact with the Psijics - your ancestor Tolfdir was a part of the Eye of Magnus issue at the College of Winterhold. You are one of the most powerful mages alive - especially in telekinesis. In fact, no being outside of our Order ever brought such knowledge of the skill into the world. As a child you were particularly prodigious in it. As the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, you also hold great political power. Such will be of great necessity to our movement against the evil in Tamriel. By now, you all know who he is." Iachesis stepped back so he could speak to all of them. "We must stop him before he grows too powerful over the provinces. As we speak, he moves to invade Morrowind and Cyrodiil. A strike to the major cities of those provinces is inevitable. What must be prevented is him gaining too much political power after those strikes."

"What do you want us to do?" Serana asked Iachesis, growing more interested in the monk as time passed.

"Here, we have five ancient powerful orders and groups meeting, between us four beings. I am the Rite Master of the Psijic Order, Serana is the leader of Volkihar Clan and is a Daughter of Coldharbour, Lodiramor is the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, and Paarthurnax is the Grand Master of the the Greybeards as well as the arguable leader of dragons in Tamriel. Our power combined can potentially prevent an era of darkness from taking place, but there is one more piece to our puzzle that we must find." Iachesis stepped towards Serana, looking her in the eye. "You want to find him, do you not?" He asked.

Serana immediately became much more interested in what Iachesis had to offer her. "Is he still alive?" She asked.

Iachesis took a step back, sighing. "I do not know," he replied, to Serana's dismay. "But you have a connection to him as strong as, if not stronger, than any other. If anyone is going to be able to find out what happened to him, it will be you or Paarthurnax, or perhaps both of you together."

Lodiramor stepped towards Iachesis, asking, "What significance do I play in this?"

Iachesis turned his head to him, merely replying, "I'm sure you could figure that out yourself. You're a smart man, Lodiramor." Speaking to all again, he spoke again. "Now that all that is out of the way, I ask you three - will you join this pact?"

For Paarthurnax, it was an easy decision to make. "I support this _aav_ \- union of _fus._ " Iachesis nodded, and turned to Serana.

Serana was not a very politically-oriented person, but her distaste for Maengvor made the prospect of the union promising to her. Also, she was desperate for answers on the Dragonborn after all of this time. "I'm in," she said.

They all turned to Lodiramor, who leaned on his staff, appearing the most conflicted out of all of them. But he would not refuse the fight against the darkness that had poisoned his home, and threatened his life. "I'll join this pact," he said.

"That settles it, then," Iachesis said. "Serana and Lodiramor, please see Quaranir again. He will show you to places to rest while you are the guest of the Psijic Order." Serana and Lodiramor left to re-enter the temple, leaving Iachesis and Paarthurnax behind.

Serana walked with Lodiramor, coming to Quaranir, who led them down the stairs and through the halls of the Psijic's temple. Her mind was completely occupied by thoughts on the Dragonborn, and where he may be. Eventually, Quaranir left Lodiramor in a room for him to rest in, and he continued to lead Serana through the halls of the temple. In a secluded corner of the tower, he left Serana, and they parted ways for the night.

Serana entered her temporary room, and set her things down before getting into the bed. The sun would rise soon, and she was tired. Thus, she drifted off to sleep.

 _Serana stood with the Dragonborn on the top of Castle Volkihar, looking out into the Sea of Ghosts as the wind blew at them. Serana looked to the Dragonborn, and asked, "You really mean what you said to Harkon? That I'm too important to you?"_

 _The Dragonborn looked at Serana, and replied, "Of course. I would never let anyone hurt you." Serana's usually cold look grew a little warmer, and she embraced the Dragonborn as the waves crashed into the rocks below. "Isran be damned. I would spend all of time with you, if it were up to me."_

 _Serana looked up at him. "But how would we ever be able to stay together? Won't it be too difficult for you, with me being a vampire?" She asked._

" _I think we can make it work," he replied, staring into her red eyes and holding her in his arms. "The world needs me - they can't survive without me."_

 _Serana reached up to touch his neck. "I need you," she said._

 _The Dragonborn leaned down, and held Serana closer to him. "I know," he spoke gently._

 _They stood upon Castle Volkihar, together. They took great pleasure in being alone, without the worries of the world burdening them. The Dragonborn, growing tired of Skyrim's troubles, was content to be with someone who actually cared about him. Serana, after her family was torn apart by greed and lust for power, was happy to be with someone who she finally felt truly loved her. After all of this time, they finally found someone who - in some way - was able to understand the other._

Serana woke up, in the middle of a thunderstorm. The sun was not shining through the clouds, so she got out of her bed to roam the tower. She felt a strong pull to the ground - as if something was there for her there. She gathered her things and left the room, descending the stairs to the ground floor of the tower. She felt an intense pull from _something_ \- she just could not figure out what.

On the ground level, there was nothing but a hatch on the floor. But, she felt compelled to open it - and she did, revealing an underground tunnel below the temple. She went into the tunnel, and closed the hatch above her. Getting to a level path below the surface, she followed it until she came to a room with a giant ball - surely with magical properties - housed in it. An inscription read on a piece of stone, ' _The Eye of Magnus_ '.

Magnus, Serana knew, was an et'Ada. However, she did not know much about him other than that he was the god of magic among the Original Spirits. She felt pulled to The Eye.

Serana walked right to it, curious. After a moment of simply looking at it, she reached up to touch it. Placing her hand on The Eye, she felt an immense power rush through her - pushing the limits of her very being.

 _A cloaked figure stood upon a shrine, looking up to a stormy sky as waves crashed against the shore. "Akatosh, please hear my call," he said, raising his arms to the heavens._

 _Serana was able to see the man, but she could tell she was not really with him. "Is...is that you?" She asked, not knowing if he could even hear her._

In a blinding flash, she snapped back to where she truly was, on Artaeum. To the side of The Eye of Magnus stood a Psijic Monk she had not yet met.

"I am Voraril," the Altmer said. "I see you have found The Eye of Magnus."

"What's it to you?" Serana asked, getting back to her feet.

"It's not something the Psijics would take kindly to - if one were to meddle with it. I won't tell Iachesis, but I...request a bit of information in return," Voraril said.

"What kind of information?" Serana asked him, wary of the monk's motives.

"What did you see - when you touched The Eye?" He asked her, inching closer to Serana.

Serana looked at The Eye, and then back at Voraril. "I saw a man on an island, standing at a shrine - call to Akatosh for help. That's it," she said.

Voraril stood a tad straighter, and raised an eyebrow. "That's it?" He asked, not really expecting a response. "Interesting...that will do. Thank you, Lady Serana." Voraril turned and left Serana with The Eye, leaving her to wonder what she had gotten herself into.

After a while, Serana sought more answers about The Eye of Magnus, and she went back through the tunnel to the hatch on the ground level of the tower. Rising out of it, she walked up the stairs until she passed a monk.

"Do you know where Iachesis is?" She asked him, bluntly stopping him on the stairwell.

"Brother Iachesis should be in the Rite Master's study at this hour. It's on the top floor - the only room," he responded, before continuing his descent down the stairs.

Serana nodded and made her way all the way back up the tower, coming to the only door on the top floor. Opening it, she came into a vast library, seeing Iachesis standing at a desk, facing a clock whose ticking was the only thing that kept the study from pure silence.

"Hello, Lady Serana," he said - not even looking from the clock. "You have spent much time in Mundus - surely you have some bits of knowledge you could add to this collection we have here?"

"You people sure are interested in knowledge, aren't you?" Serana asked, walking towards his desk. "I could tell you a lot about vampires - and Molag Bal. I could bring you my mother's study on alchemy and necromancy."

Iachesis shifted his neck to look at Serana through the corner of his eye, and then looked back at the clock. "Interesting. Such will have to be for a later time. What brings you to my study today?" He asked her.

"I was curious about an artifact you have here," she began. "What can you tell me about The Eye of Magnus?" Serana asked.

Iachesis turned to face her, a look of seeming curiosity and some annoyance in his eyes. "The Eye of Magnus? You know of The Eye?" He asked, to which Serana nodded. "Very well. I guess you are worthy of knowledge on the matter. The Eye of Magnus is an artifact of Magnus, the et'Ada who was the architect of Mundus. It radiates magic because Magnus - the god of magic - is the reason we have magicka throughout Mundus. The Eye holds much power over the mortal plane. With The Eye, its mysteries can be unraveled - but if its balance is upset enough, Mundus itself can unravel. Thus, the Psijic Order will guard it with our lives."

Serana looked at Iachesis for a moment, and wondered about the possibilities of The Eye. "Could it help me find the Dragonborn?" She asked.

"Believe me, I've already tried. The Eye's magic can be...finicky...even for us," Iachesis replied. Serana nodded, and then turned to leave. Before reached the door, Iachesis added, "Be careful, Serana. It is becoming harder to tell when evil is around the corner."

Serana found Iachesis' ominous warning somewhat disturbing, but she left the Rite Master's study a bit more curious about what she saw when she touched The Eye. She guessed that it would reveal itself not too far into the future.

Meanwhile, Lodiramor was using a book he took from the collection of works the Psijics allowed him access to learn about mysticism. He found it particularly fascinating that the Psijics were able to communicate telepathically, and was trying to test their methods. He read from a book by Celarus, their Loremaster,

 _The ability to communicate telepathically comes from the ability to use the qualities of Mundus to one's advantage. Magnus, when he inadvertently gave the plane of existence magicka, gave all beings - immortal, mortal, and undead who live in Mundus - connections to each other through magicka._

 _This allows us to communicate telepathically, even from great distances. While a beginner may need to be able to see their target to communicate with them without the action of speaking, two experts in this skill could theoretically converse with each other from one end of Nirn to the other._

 _The action of telepathy requires a being to reach out from the confines of their body, using magicka to grasp the essence of another. From there, one can communicate using nothing but magics and the mind._

Lodiramor felt for the essence of Serana - and immediately knew she was in the temple, walking down a stairwell. He was amazed at the type of magic that the Psijics developed, for before this he was only able to detect the mere presence of life.

"It's a useful concept, isn't it?"

Lodiramor turned around and saw another Psijic monk standing before him.

"And who are you?" Lodiramor asked the monk.

"I am the one who wrote that book - my name is Celarus, Loremaster of the Psijic Order." Lodiramor was intrigued by Celarus, and let him continue speaking. "You and your friends have been a...debated subject here on Artaeum. While Brother Iachesis and myself have no problems with you, there are some who are wary of bringing you here."

"Why is that?" Lodiramor asked.

Celarus stepped towards Lodiramor and the reached out, causing the book to fly to his hand. "Knowledge on Magnus," he began, "is very sought after by some people. The Thalmor, some cults around Tamriel - especially the one that is growing now from Skyrim. It would be very problematic if someone from our Order spread knowledge of Magnus to these groups. History shows that people who leave the Psijic Order to pursue black magic tend to be banes for the people of Tamriel. Just take Mannimarco, of the Order of the Black Worm."

"What does he have to do with the current threat?" Lodiramor asked.

"The one they call Maengvor - yes, I know his name - is much more interested in using...our type of magic...than Mannimarco was. Our magic, if delved into its darker side, could undo this world. The Order of the Black Worm was more interested in necromancy. But I have suspicions on some monks around here seeking to leave the Psijic Order, planning on helping Maengvor seek our knowledge," Celarus said.

Lodiramor tapped his staff on the ground, a little lost. "And what does that have to do with bringing us here?" He asked.

"The unwitting make good targets for manipulation. Thought you might like to look out for yourself," Celarus replied.

Lodiramor's look hardened, becoming wary of the Psijics' foreboding words. "I'll take care of myself, thank you," he replied sternly, before turning and walking away from Celarus. Lodiramor was already tiring of the conflict that plagued Tamriel.


End file.
